


Valentine’s Day

by Newtella



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Established Relationship, Feeding Kink, Food Kink, M/M, Weight Gain, yeah this a feedism fic lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2016-02-15
Packaged: 2018-05-20 16:19:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6016216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Newtella/pseuds/Newtella
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Bentley, recently given human form, believes that Aziraphale really should get Crowley a present for Valentine’s Day. Aziraphale is more interested in eating than in buying something for his boyfriend. All this results in steamy romance, horrid incompetence, and quite a lot of food indeed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Valentine’s Day

**Author's Note:**

> This incarnation of human!Bentley belongs to cupidbabyofcrime on tumblr. She said I could use the character for this fic (two years ago, when I wrote it for my girlfriend for Valentine's Day) so I do hope she won't mind me posting it now.

“You don’t have anything to give Crowley for Valentine’s Day?”

“No.” Aziraphale took a pensive bite of cheesecake. “I don’t really see the need to. When you’ve known someone for six thousand years, buying him presents every year merely seems a bit unnecessary. Not to mention repetitive. We’d have run out of ideas years ago. And anyway, he knows I love him, no matter what material items I may or may not have bought him.”

“It would still be nice to get him something,” Bentley said, seated across the restaurant table from him. “I’m sure he got something for you. He’s always buying me things and we’re not even dating.”

“Well, yes… you do have a point.” Aziraphale slid his fork across the table to nab a bite of Bentley’s mousse. “But I’m not the gift-shopping type the way he is. I do believe it will be all right if I simply give him a kiss and a verbal expression of my affection.”

“Look, Aziraphale.” Bentley leaned forward, eyes meeting his seriously. “Let’s be honest now, okay? Crowley has been gushing at me for weeks now about how much you’re going to love the thing he got you. I really think it would be in your best interest to get him something in return.”

“Mmm, I don’t think so,” Aziraphale said, mouth full of chocolate mousse. “It’s simply so much effort to think of a gift, you see. And I’ve been very busy. I really can’t be expected to spend hours on something so trivial as preparation for a holiday when there are so many books I have to catalogue and reread.”

Bentley rolled her eyes. “You really are lazy, aren’t you? Not to mention entirely inept at romance. I’d think an angel would be less selfish, especially when it came to his boyfriend.”

“I like to think I’m a fairly good boyfriend to Crowley,” Aziraphale replied, wounded as he finally looked up from his food.

“Then get him something! I’ll help you shop if you want me to, just… don’t neglect him!” Bentley’s tone softened, however, as she went on, “He really cares about you, Aziraphale. You should hear the way he talks about you when you’re not there. And he’s been working so hard to make Valentine’s Day perfect for you. The least you could do would be to spend a little bit of time trying to do something nice for him.”

Aziraphale played with his fork guiltily, gazing down at the two empty dessert plates that now adorned the table. Suddenly he snapped his fingers, raising an arm to call over a waiter. “Let’s discuss gift ideas,” he determined.

Bentley raised a eyebrow. “And we need a waiter for that why?”

“Brain food,” the angel explained. “So long as we’re staying, I may as well order another dessert.”

******

“So what does Crowley like?” Aziraphale went through their mental list as he and Bentley strolled through the halls of a shopping mall. “Cars, plants, dapper clothes, those novels by Sir Ian Fleming…”

“You,” Bentley added with a smile.

“Don’t be silly, dear.” Aziraphale flashed her a smile back. “He already has me. I can hardly give him more of myself.”

“Well, the same could be said for cars, then,” Bentley pointed out. “He already has a car. He doesn’t need two.” A hint of jealous pride accompanied her words.

“Very true, dear,” Aziraphale agreed, patting her hand reassuringly. “What’s next on the list, then? Plants? Shall we find a horticultural store? I’m sure he would be delighted to receive a new addition to his collection!”

They located a flower shop on one of the mall maps and entered, bombarded with the dual odors of fertilizer and lush wildlife.

Aziraphale studied a pot of neon pink flowers, breathing in their scent. “What sort of thing do you think Crowley would like, then? Something like these?”

“Something a bit more masculine, maybe?” Bentley suggested with a smirk, herself examining the leaves of a large _dieffenbachia seguine_. “Though as to _what_ kind of masculine thing, I have no ide—”

“Bentley! Look! These ones have berries on them!”

Bentley turned in horror to find the angel ripping round berries from the stems of a leafy plant, cramming them en masse into his mouth. “They’re delicious!”

Bentley’s eyes grew incredibly wide. “Aziraphale, those could be poisonous!”

“You’re forgetting that I’m immortal, dear.” The angel shrugged, popping in another handful. “That’s hardly a concern.”

“Well, what about the fact that I’m pretty sure you’re not allowed to _eat things from stores without paying for them_?” Bentley steered Aziraphale pointedly away from the plant, and more pointedly away from the very miffed shopkeeper. “Look, maybe plants aren’t the best idea, since it’s obvious neither of us know anything about them. If you’re that hungry, we’ll get you a snack and try somewhere else.”

Aziraphale nodded seriously at the plan change, but at the last suggestion his whole being seemed to light up with joy. “Oh, my dear car. You know always know just what to say. A snack sounds lovely!”

******

“Crowley likes clothes, doesn’t he?” Aziraphale dubiously held up a black suit jacket ten sizes too small for himself and measured it against his chest. “This looks like it might fit him…”

“He already has a lot of clothes,” Bentley observed. “Or, a lot of suits like that one.”

“Well, yes. I would presume that means he likes them. And he’ll outgrow them at some point, won’t he? Eventually he’ll be needing more.”

Bentley cocked an eyebrow. “Why would he be growing, now?”

“Oh, I know he wouldn’t be. But don’t clothes… shrink after a while, or something?” Aziraphale averted her eyes, cheeks reddening as he stared at the black cotton. “I keep having to replace my wardrobe. It’s the oddest thing. All of my jumpers and trousers will fit me perfectly, and then one day they’ll simply… cease to fit at all. That happens to human clothes, doesn’t it?”

Bentley’s studied Aziraphale’s face. And then her eyes strayed to the angel’s very large, very round belly. “I wouldn’t know,” was all she said. “I’m a car.”

Aziraphale sighed. “I suppose you are. Even if Crowley did make you into a person…”

“Well, this car thinks that getting him a plain old suit is boring,” Bentley said. “Get him something you like! Something from the heart!”

Aziraphale took another look at the jacket. And then he looked up at the far less fashionable section across the store, filled with hideous tartan and other gaudy patterns. His eyes lit up.

“On second thought…” Aziraphale sighed in regret and resignation as he placed the jacket carefully back on the rack. “I shouldn’t get Crowley something I like and he doesn’t. As much as I want to see him in tartan, it wouldn’t be a very good gift, would it?”

Bentley shrugged. “Different store, then?”

“Different store,” Aziraphale agreed. “Perhaps something a bit more traditional, this time? A less personal present won’t seem as thoughtful, but it’s really the only idea I have left. Chocolates, or something. Something easy.”

“Fair enough.”

Aziraphale nodded. And then: “But let’s stop for lunch along the way. All this shopping is taking a lot of energy! I’m simply famished.”

“By ‘let’s stop for lunch,’ do you mean both of us are going to eat lunch, or you’re going to eat your lunch _and_ my lunch?” Bentley smirked fondly as they exited the store. “Because every time we’ve gone out, Aziraphale, that last option is what happened.”

“Hush. You don’t need to eat. You’re a car.”

“And you’re an angel!”

“Hush.”

******

The very moment they walked into the chocolatier’s, Bentley knew it was a mistake. Aziraphale looked like a child in a quite literal candy store as he flew from shelf to shelf, gazing in wonder at different confections, piling up boxes to buy in his arms, practically glowing with glee all the while.

“You’re not buying Crowley all that,” Bentley said dryly, nodding at the twenty or so items in the angel’s arms. “He eats chocolate maybe once a month. He’ll never finish it all.”

“Who said _any_ of this was for Crowley, dear?” Aziraphale positively beamed. “Look how delicious it all looks! I can’t wait to eat every bite of it!”

Bentley shook her head with a fond smile. “I guess if Crowley had chocolates under any circumstances, it would be you who ended up eating them anyway…”

“Precisely! Which is why there’s no point in buying him any!” He deposited his heap of boxes onto the counter for the somewhat overwhelmed cashier to process. “More for me!”

“Aziraphale, did you actually come into this store to buy Crowley a gift, or did you just want chocolate for yourself?”

A twinkle appeared in the angel’s eye. “I’m surprised at you, my dear car. I, neglecting my boyfriend for the purpose of indulging my own sinful pleasures? How could you even suggest such a thing?”

Bentley laughed. “You know, sometimes I forget you’re the angel and he’s the demon. It really seems like the other way around.”

“Shhh. Help me carry the chocolate.”

******

Several shopping trips and devoured boxes of chocolates later, Aziraphale was no closer to finding a gift for Crowley. Every brilliant spark of idea just seemed lead the angel to another dead end. The original _James Bond_ novels? Crowley owned all of them, hidden behind a row of—what were those modern VHS tapes called? The ones that looked like coasters?—so that no one would think him bookish, but they were there all the same. A first-edition copy of one? Aziraphale had one but refused to part with it under any circumstances. New sunglasses? Crowley wouldn’t wear any that he hadn’t miracled into the world, one-of-a-kind and tailored to fit his liking. Those funny coaster things of his favorite TV show? No, he already owned all of _Golden Girls_ …

It simply wasn’t fair, Aziraphale thought dourly as he shoved another chocolate into his mouth, reclining poutily on the bookshop sofa. He’d _wanted_ to do something nice for his boyfriend. He’d made an _effort_! It simply shouldn’t be this difficult to be thoughtful! Not for an angel!

The door creaked open, and Aziraphale sat up, cramming another chocolate into his mouth. “We’re closed!” he shouted at the front door, glaring at whatever anonymous customer had come to plague him this time. “Shame on you! Don’t you know it’s a holiday?”

“Yeah, s’matter of fact, I do.”

The figure standing in the bookshop doorway was thin and dark and clad in an impeccable suit, with sunglasses perched on his nose despite being indoors. He leaned lazily against the doorframe, giving the angel a little ironic wave. Maybe it was how perfectly the suit fit him, or the mischievous gleam in his smile, or the earnest affection that Aziraphale could just glimpse in his eyes. All the angel knew was that in that moment, he had never seen anyone so beautiful or loved anyone so much.

“You gonna invite me in, angel? Or am I gonna have to give you your present from out here? Now, that would really be a shame. You know why? Because I have the best present in the whole history of presents for you, that’s why! Some rich guy giving his son a whole country for his birthday? He’s got nothing on me! This holiday, I’m the king of presents!”

Guilt flooded Aziraphale’s heart. Softly: “Happy Valentine’s Day, Crowley.”

“Yeah, whatever. I’m coming in anyway. No offense. I know you don’t like strangers touching your beloved bookshop.” Crowley strolled inside, making sure to touch as many books as possible just to piss the angel off. “Maybe you should turn it into a sexy lady. The way I did with Bentley. Might make things less boring around here.” Suddenly he wrinkled his nose. “Actually, I take that back. Your bookshop would probably be nerdy as He—”

“I didn’t get you anything,” Aziraphale blurted. His eyes actually started tearing up. Shit. He was a terrible boyfriend. “I didn’t get you anything and I’m so sorry!”

“What?” Crowley stopped walking, blinking in surprise. “I know you didn’t. Angel, sometimes you go into book comas for weeks and come out thinking it’s still 1950 and you were reading for two hours. I didn’t even expect you to remember what day it was!”

“No, you don’t understand!” Aziraphale shook with self-disgust, tears leaking out of his eyes. “I tried so _hard_! Bentley and I looked for a gift for you for _weeks_! I just couldn’t find anything suitable at all! I’m a terrible boyfriend!”

“Uh, angel. I don’t actually care?” Crowley approached him cautiously, awkwardly wrapping an arm around him that he hoped would be at least somewhat comforting. “Sure, this is our first Valentine’s Day as a couple, but… we’re immortal. We have millions of Valentine’s Days to go. Literally. And even if you literally never got me a gift, I wouldn’t really care either?”

Aziraphale hugged him tightly, sobbing into the demon’s arms. “But I tried so bloody hard!”

“Yeah, okay. Fair enough. But it’s the thought that counts, right? I don’t even need a present. Just the fact that you cared enough to try is pretty blessed awesome.”

“I spent so much time…”

“I love _you_ , angel, not any stuff you might give me.”

“I put on eight pounds…”

“Wait.” Crowley pulled away, holding Aziraphale by the shoulders and looking at him with an expression more serious than Mr. Black of those _Harry Potter_ books the angel was so fond of. “You did what now? Say that again.”

Aziraphale sniffled, wiping his nose on his sleeve. “I put on eight pounds,” he repeated shyly, his cheeks coloring. “For the past month or so I’ve been… rather stressed because I thought I… had to get you a gift. And you know what I do to comfort myself in those situations…”

Crowley stared at him for so long that Aziraphale thought the demon must not have heard him. He opened his mouth to repeat himself once again, not to mention tell Crowley off for not listening properly, when the demon smothered him in a bone-crushing hug.

“Why didn’t you say so sooner?!” Crowley demanded, face looking like it was about to split in two from happiness. “Angel, that’s fantastic!”

Aziraphale blinked in utter lack of understanding. “Come again?”

“That’s bloody _fantastic_! Eight pounds! In a _month_! Angel, that’s got to be some kind of record!”

Aziraphale coughed pointedly. “I actually have to contradict you there, my dear boy. I’ve gained quite a bit more than that in that time frame under different circumstances…”

“Still! Eight pounds! Angel, that’s pretty blessed great.” Crowley beamed, looking at his angel as if he were truly the most gorgeous thing in the world. “Why did you feel the need to lie to me? That was dumb! You got all worked up over nothing!”

“Lie to you? Crowley, I must admit I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re going on a—”

“You lied and said you didn’t get me a present, obviously. But you got me the best goda—the best present I could have asked for, okay?” Crowley shook his head with the proudest smile Aziraphale had ever seen. “Eight pounds. Wow. Make it even more next time, yeah? You look _incredible_.”

Aziraphale nearly jumped into the air in surprise as understanding hit him. “You’re… _happy_ about my weight gain?!”

“Happy? Are you _joking_?!” Crowley reached out and, reflexes as sharp as an attacking cobra’s, grabbed a handful of Aziraphale’s tummy fat before the angel could jerk away. “Look at this! _Look at this!_ What do you see, angel?”

Aziraphale blushed. “I… see the very fat belly of an angel who enjoys food too much and has absolutely let himself go.”

“Oh, come _on_ , angel. Don’t tell me you don’t love it.”

The angel froze. “What do you mean?”

“You know. The overeating. The weight gain. Being fat. Stuffing yourself silly. _Knowing_ you’re a pig. You love it all, don’t you?” Crowley grinned, knowing he had him cornered. He’d been waiting to say this for a long time. “You’re a… what are those humans called that want to be fat? Feedees?”

“Shut up.” Staring pointedly at the ground, Aziraphale’s face was the color of the tomatoes that went into the sauces he was so fond of. “I’m an angel. I don’t have kinks.”

“Kinks? Who said anything about kinks? Oh, that’s right. _You_ did. Not me.” Crowley slunk behind Aziraphale, never relinquishing his triumphant grip on the angel’s belly. Aziraphale was excepting a slap on his bottom, or a crude gesture, or something equally childish…

But he gasped as Crowley’s second hand found his belly and both began kneading the fat between them like a delicious uncooked roll. He wanted to act indignant. He wanted to tell him to get off and mind his own business. But instead, the angel shivered with pleasure.

“Yes,” he mumbled. “I love it. I haven’t precisely been… getting fat by accident.”

“You know something funny?” The demon grinned, then leaned to whisper in the angel’s ear: “I love it too.”

To distract from the very obvious shudder that ran through his body at Crowley’s proximity, Aziraphale straightened up in a feeble attempt at dignity. “So, what’s my present then?” he asked, engaged in a valiant struggle to keep his voice proper. “I keep hearing about the wonder of my fabulous present, first from your personified car, and now from you. What is it? Do you intend to keep me waiting all night?”

“Absolutely not. In fact I should probably show you as soon as possible. Because…” Crowley waved his hand casually, and the present appeared. “… you’ll need all night to finish it.”

It was a banquet. The most glorious banquet the angel could have imagined, spread out along several tables, each of which looked like they were about to collapse under the weight of so many plates overflowing with food. Aziraphale recognized dozens of his favorite dishes, dozens of his favorite desserts, and the fact that this was probably enough food for thirty people. He was drooling within seconds.

“Like it?” Crowley smirked, extremely pleased with himself. The look on Aziraphale’s face had gave him all the feedback he needed. “I knew you would. After knowing you for six thousand years, angel, I think I’d know what your favorite thing is by now. You put on a good show of loving books, but only I know where your true passion lies.” He paused, then made a face. “Actually, okay, I take that back. Every single blessed being that sees you eat knows where your passion lies, but you know what I—”

“’rowey, thi’ deli’shush!” Aziraphale, for his part, wasn’t listening to a single word. Instead he was leaning back on the sofa, legs propped up comfortably on a table as he crammed half a plate’s worth of food into his mouth in a single go. He swallowed before going on, “You were right! It truly is the best gift I could have asked for!”

Crowley rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well, save your breath. That feast is only half of it.”

“Do you mean there’s going to be more food?! Crowley, as much as I’d love to, I’m not sure I can eat much more than—”

“The second half is that I’m going to feed it all to you, you idiot.” He eyed the angel with a smirk. “Well, all of it you haven’t already stuffed down your throat, that is.”

“Oh, my dear Crowley!” Aziraphale glowed with joy. “I’d like that very much.”

“Yeah. So tonight I feed you to bursting. And tomorrow? Tomorrow is the best day of the year. You know why?”

“I’ll… wake up with a full stomach?”

“No, angel. Think about it. Day after Valentine’s. _Half-priced sweets_. We’ll turn eight into twenty pounds within the week!”

Eyes wide with delight, Aziraphale made room for Crowley on the sofa, scootching over so that the demon could wrap an arm around him and raise forks full of food to the angel’s waiting lips.

Outside, a car horn blared. And a passerby could have sworn he heard strains of Queen’s “Fat-Bottomed Girls” suddenly begin playing from the Bentley’s speakers, all by itself, as if the car had a mind of its own.


End file.
